Fermata
by Digital Tempest
Summary: Vampire Diaries. Vignette. Evolved drabble. Pause. Damon reminds Stefan of everything he's not, and Stefan muses. One shot. Complete.


**Title:** Fermata  
**Author:** Tempest  
**Disclaimer:** I don't own any of the characters recognizable from "The Vampire Diaries". They all belong to Ms. L.J. Smith, and I promise to return them relatively unharmed before curfew. No vampires were harmed in the making of this fic. I make no money off these works; no copyright infringement intended.  
**Author's Notes:** This was inspired in part by the song "Furious Angels", my sudden need to listen to a ton of Mozart, and the 15minute ficlets community on livejournal. Look out for part two. Just when I thought I could put my VD muses in a retirement home… Liberties have been taken. Forgive me.

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**Act****I.**** Scene ****I.****  
Stefan**

The words rolled of Damon's tongue like acid, causing him to wince from the verbal burn. Then, Stefan had watched transfixed as Damon's mouth curled into a wicked grin and his lips parted slowly, revealing brilliant, sharp, white teeth. Laughter. The melodious ring of his laugh soared across the opera house, throughout the chasms of his being, rising to a voce di testa climax then lowering once again to a throaty chuckle.

A few people, affluent men and women, cast disapproving glances their way. Damon just waved away their disapproval with a flick of his slender hand. Stefan shrugged at them, apologetically, while trying to control his own emotions. Damon always knew exactly the right thing to say to infuriate him, and he always picked the most inopportune times to enrage him.

Words spoken so softly and so sharply, they danced around the mortals' ear like a sharp, staccato snap. However, they pained him, an imperceptible stake to the heart. Stefan tightened his jaw, clamping his teeth down so hard he feared they would shatter. He gripped the armrest of his seat tightly, continuing to stare ahead, ignoring the leers of Damon.

Damon thought he was weak. Had to be. Why else would he drink the blood of animals? Why else would he live his life in constant desolation, a never-ending arpeggio of solitude? Damon thought he was achromatic, seeing the world in a berceuse of neutral colors – grays, blacks, and whites. He was frail like the wings of a dove, diminutive and delicate, waiting to be crushed.

But his hunger burned just like Damon's. Every pulse in the room beat with the swell of the violins and the trills of the flutes. Taunting him. Enticing him. To think about the taste of a mortal's blood against his tongue made his lips ache and throat parch. He wanted the feel the shiver of warm skin against his own as grazed his teeth across it, resting his tongue against the pulse. Allegro con brio against his taste buds.

Nothing was as sweet as the taste of human blood, that sanguine wine. It was rapture, like Eros in overtime. His mouth watered at the thought. He was hungry, always hungry. While Damon gorged on the fruits of the flesh, he piteously starved, taking only enough animal blood to sustain him. Never human blood. Not anymore. He longed for something to fill his aching stomach, but he feared.

He feared the velvet darkness he believed would take over his soul; he feared that stolen memories he tastes in the blood. The memories, the secrets, the lies, they were enough to drive him to madness. He couldn't just dismiss them with pure will like Damon. Most of all, though, he feared the beast, the bloodthirsty monster that dwelled within them all, the monster that had the power to drive them insane with bloodlust and destruction. But he wanted.

He wanted.

He closed his eyes tightly, suddenly tired. A weary sigh escaped from his lips, as the cantata swirled around him. He was tired. Damon's fingers brushed against his wrist, a surprisingly familial, compassionate gesture from one who claimed to harbor no humane emotions. He opened his eyes and stared at the testament to what he could never become, this perverse doppelganger of himself.

Enemy.

Kindred.

Brother.


End file.
